11/9
I recently saw/heard three things which made me think very seriously about the kind art I not only respond to but the kind of art I want to make.
The Harvard Film Archive had a retrospective of films by Bruce Conner (1933-2008) which were some of the most amazing things I've ever seen. He used almost entirely found footage which he edited together to create films that were hilarious, haunting, breathtaking, sad and truly unforgettable. It's like he created his own visual language out of discarded images (educational films, newsreels, b-movies, industrial films, etc) to critique American culture.
William Christenberry's photographs (William Christenberry Photographs, 1961-2005) and talk at MassArt, while being different from Conner, have a somewhat similar sensibility. His interest in the vernacular architecture of Hale County, Alabama seems to mirror Conner's use of found materials. Both create art from what is discarded or overlooked. They find beauty (or in the case of Conner, humor and mystery as well) in things most people wouldn't notice. In Christenberry's work, it's a subtle beauty that stems from what he called his 'emotional involvement with vernacular architecture'. He also said you could always tell an artist who is in love with his subject. He clearly does and even though many of his photographs are made with an old Brownie camera, there is both beauty and elegance.
A few days later Gregory Crewdson spoke at MassArt and he went into great detail to describe how he makes his photographs. Working with a crew between 50 and 60 people, Crewdson makes constructed images that look like film stills. This often includes building sets, using smoke and rain machines, closing off streets, setting buildings on fire, making snow, hiring actors, etc etc. As he went on it seemed like his working process became more and more involved with not only more intricate stage sets, but massive amounts of digital post production. It felt as if it had nothing to do with photography and more to do with working with gadgets and props. Towards the end of his discussion he said he doesn't even like 'touching a camera' and that he wasn't interested in what his photographs mean. This felt like a total cop out because why would someone go to such lengths to produce these images if they weren't interested in the meaning of them (other than the obvious reality that he can sell them for lots of money)? I also felt that for all the dazzle in Crewdson's work (and technically they are pretty amazing) they leave me cold. Once I get past the technical part, there isn't much left. Just an anonymous woman sitting in a car at an intersection with the door open, for example. Wow.
For me Crewdson's work ended up feeling kind of vulgar. The idea of so much time and money being used (wasted?) to make something that is ultimately so unemotional. That when you strip away all the manufactured 'drama' you're left with but nothing but artifice. It's visual junk food. And compared with the powerful simplicity of Christenberry and Conner, the work of Crewdson feels even more empty. It seems like Crewdson has gotten so far away from actual photography and traditional image making, he's lost any connection to what he's trying to say. No wonder he doesn't want to talk about meaning.
The Harvard Film Archive had a retrospective of films by Bruce Conner (1933-2008) which were some of the most amazing things I've ever seen. He used almost entirely found footage which he edited together to create films that were hilarious, haunting, breathtaking, sad and truly unforgettable. It's like he created his own visual language out of discarded images (educational films, newsreels, b-movies, industrial films, etc) to critique American culture.
William Christenberry's photographs (William Christenberry Photographs, 1961-2005) and talk at MassArt, while being different from Conner, have a somewhat similar sensibility. His interest in the vernacular architecture of Hale County, Alabama seems to mirror Conner's use of found materials. Both create art from what is discarded or overlooked. They find beauty (or in the case of Conner, humor and mystery as well) in things most people wouldn't notice. In Christenberry's work, it's a subtle beauty that stems from what he called his 'emotional involvement with vernacular architecture'. He also said you could always tell an artist who is in love with his subject. He clearly does and even though many of his photographs are made with an old Brownie camera, there is both beauty and elegance.
A few days later Gregory Crewdson spoke at MassArt and he went into great detail to describe how he makes his photographs. Working with a crew between 50 and 60 people, Crewdson makes constructed images that look like film stills. This often includes building sets, using smoke and rain machines, closing off streets, setting buildings on fire, making snow, hiring actors, etc etc. As he went on it seemed like his working process became more and more involved with not only more intricate stage sets, but massive amounts of digital post production. It felt as if it had nothing to do with photography and more to do with working with gadgets and props. Towards the end of his discussion he said he doesn't even like 'touching a camera' and that he wasn't interested in what his photographs mean. This felt like a total cop out because why would someone go to such lengths to produce these images if they weren't interested in the meaning of them (other than the obvious reality that he can sell them for lots of money)? I also felt that for all the dazzle in Crewdson's work (and technically they are pretty amazing) they leave me cold. Once I get past the technical part, there isn't much left. Just an anonymous woman sitting in a car at an intersection with the door open, for example. Wow.
For me Crewdson's work ended up feeling kind of vulgar. The idea of so much time and money being used (wasted?) to make something that is ultimately so unemotional. That when you strip away all the manufactured 'drama' you're left with but nothing but artifice. It's visual junk food. And compared with the powerful simplicity of Christenberry and Conner, the work of Crewdson feels even more empty. It seems like Crewdson has gotten so far away from actual photography and traditional image making, he's lost any connection to what he's trying to say. No wonder he doesn't want to talk about meaning.
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